Cursed: Briar Rose's Story - Kaylin Lee Page 0,8

didn’t need to look at Mom. I could feel her frowning, just inches away. “You can skip class tomorrow, honey. Your father and I just got home. We can do something fun together as a family. How about that?”

“Whatever.” My flat, empty tone mockingly contrasted the storm of emotions inside me. Alba finally released our father, stepping back and beaming like she’d accomplished something amazing by hugging him.

He approached me, his brow furrowed. “Briar, are you well?”

“Of course I am.”

I ducked out of my mom’s embrace and turned away before Dad could reach me. The hug I’d been longing for the past few weeks now seemed sure to shatter me. I had to get away. “Heading to bed,” I said over my shoulder. “See you in the morning.”

My temples throbbed as I mounted the stairs. No one followed. Their voices rose, lighthearted and happy, as my parents told the story of their mission and Ella began bustling about the kitchen.

The pit of my stomach churned, vulnerable and needy and pathetic. I couldn’t believe I’d wanted my father so much, missed him so much. I didn’t need him. I never had. How had I forgotten that in just a few short, stupid months?

Back in my room, I locked the door, and then I pulled the journal from my pillow and my faded map collection from the drawer under my desk. I spread both on the floor and settled onto my knees.

Verdant and secure, an oasis built on eons of death and power. The words I’d translated settled me, channeling my chaotic pain into a plan.

The top of a dead volcano.

The perfect place for a girl who didn’t need anyone.

Chapter 4

Snow flurries whipped across the mountain face, blinding me. I paused and waited for the wind to die down, then wiped my goggles and continued walking.

I’d been skirting the top of the mountain for hours, looking for the configuration of rocks in the explorer’s sketch that marked the tunnel into the crater. With the snow covering everything, it was hard to tell.

Maybe I’d already passed it. Perhaps I should give up, go home—

I’d made my choice. I couldn’t go back now.

I’d left home four days ago, sneaking out of the city gates early in the morning the day after my parents returned from their mission to the Badlands. And once I’d made a decision, I didn’t back down. I’d face my fear, like always. Run toward it, not away from it. I’d survive on my own. Show myself I could handle whatever the Badlands threw at me.

I didn’t need him—didn’t need any of them.

My shoulders ached from the weight of my pack, full to bursting with leftover supplies I’d scavenged from my parents’ Sentinel gear. They’d tossed their uniforms, backpacks, and supplies in the closet in the back hallway that night and then had no doubt forgotten about them, just like Dad had forgotten about me.

I stuck close to the crater’s outer wall, if it actually was a crater, and followed it as it turned away from the exposed southern face of the mountain. Finally, the wind died down. Buoyed by the sudden relief from the wind, I picked up my pace.

There it was—a strange jutting out of rocks up ahead. It looked like a giant from the Western legends had played with the stones to make a signpost. No wonder the explorer had been convinced the crater had revealed itself to him.

I waded through the knee-deep snow with new urgency. The cold air did nothing to chill the excitement that warmed me from the inside out. There would be no more safe, boring bedroom in the Mage Division. No more fighting with Alba about everything. No more disappointment. No more rejection.

I was free—alone and free. The Badlands spread around me in a wintry expanse—vast, frozen, and flawless.

The narrow crack behind the tower of rocks led to the tunnel. I ducked inside, relieved to have shelter from the snow. My gloved hands trembled as I shoved my pack into the tunnel in front of me. I crawled on my hands and knees, pushing my pack as I went. The snowy light on the other end drew closer.

First, I’d set up a simple, cozy winter camp. When spring arrived, I’d—

No! The crater wasn’t empty. It was the furthest thing from empty.

An enormous, wooden palace filled its center, clearly inhabited, its magnificent glass windows glowing with silvery light.

I gaped at the building, my brain struggling to keep up with the monstrosity filling my vision.